


If You Don't, Dear, Confess

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sequence, F/M, Samwena, samwitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: PROMPT: Sam has a dream about being seduced by Rowena in the bunker that gets interrupted/woken by Dean?





	If You Don't, Dear, Confess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marksmanfem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marksmanfem/gifts).



"If you can't make your mind up  
We'll never get started  
And I don't wanna wind up  
Being parted, broken-hearted"

~ _Perhaps_ , Cake

“Samuel?” her voice is in his mind but so far away. “Samuel, can you hear me?”

He feels like he’s underwater, his limbs are heavy, his vision is blurred. Then she comes into view, so clear like he’s coming up for air.

“Samuel,” she repeats, smiling, looking down at him.

“Rowena?” he asks, not hearing his own voice, but feeling it leave his body.

She nods, reaches for him, combs her delicate fingers through his hair, brushes a thumb over the shell of his ear. “You boys challenge me so,” she says with a lilt of whimsy, perhaps even affection. “And I _know_ I challenge you. _Especially_ you.”

She drags a fingertip down the side of his throat, watching it bob as he swallows.

He swallows and swallows. He’s swallowing air and thoughts and sensations. The way she’s touching him is simple. It’s easy and light and delicate, but Sam can’t help the way his body is reacting to her nearness, her tone, the sultry sparkle in her eyes. He can’t stop it.

She feels cool and light as she straddles him.

Rowena… is straddling his lap and he’s sitting in a hard, wood chair. He can’t move or speak, and he’s on fire. Rowena’s eyes are the fire. Her tongue wraps around the words she speaks, pink and glistening behind perfect white teeth. She’s so small but she overwhelms him.

“Can I touch you?” he asks. There, he can speak – but he still can’t hear it himself his own ears. All he can hear is her breath, her ringing laughter, her delicate, sweet voice.

Rowena nods slowly. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, clasps her hands behind his head. She’s wearing some of the most magnificent fabrics, layers of sheer pink, gossamer and lovely. Her skin peeking through it all is ivory porcelain.

Sam wants so much to touch her. “This is stunning,” he says, barely fingering the edges of the sheer frills of her lingerie. The bodice is fitted satin, emphasizing her tiny waist, the slight flair of her hips.

Sam brings his gaze to meet hers, and her returning smile is full of secrets, spilling and dancing on her lips. “ _You’re_ stunning,” he breathes out and in. “Can you take me?” he asks.

“Oh, my dear, sweet boy,” she says, holding his jaw with her fingertips as she dips in to kiss him, to lick into him, to make love to his mouth with hers. When she pulls away, her eyes hold his. “I’ll take it all,” she whispers.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice cuts in and Sam is shaking; he’s being shaken. “Sammy!”

“Huh?” Sam grunts, clears his throat, he can hear the hitch in his voice.

He looks around the library. Rowena is seated in a high back chair, reading, researching. He stares at her until she brings her gaze to meet his. He thinks he sees knowing in her eyes, but then Dean’s snapping his fingers for attention.

“Dude, you were mumbling something about taking something,” Dean says, wagging a finger at Sam, pointing at his mouth. “And, whatever that was about, you’re drooling.” Judgment and amusement mingle in Dean’s features.

Sam drags his wrist over his mouth, wiping the drool away. He can feel Rowena watching him. When he looks up, he definitely sees knowing when their eyes meet.

Dean shakes his head. “Maybe, I dunno, go to bed or something.” Then he leaves the library with the book he came looking for, mumbling about wet dreams.

“Was that you?” Sam asks, never taking his eyes from Rowena’s.

“Perhaps,” she answers with an arched brow before returning her attention to the book in her lap.

 _Perhaps_.

Perhaps isn’t ‘no’ or even ‘what do you mean?’. Perhaps is ‘yes’.

And Sam is elated.


End file.
